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Though that would have been a wild exaggeration of the upcoming events. This was baby steps. Aaron would watch—same as he did in Vegas—just not from outside the window. From in here. In our bedroom. Close enough for me to hear him. Close enough, if I pulled off my blindfold—to see everything.
I looked through the open door, the edge of our bed visible. The corner of the dresser. The loveseat, which I had cleaned off in preparation for tonight. There were fresh sheets on the bed, the floors were mopped, and all of the junk on top of our dresser had been swept into the top drawers. Lit tea light candles flickered from the bedside tables and window sills.
Maybe I should blow out the candles. It was kind of a romantic vibe, and that certainly wasn’t the mood I was going for.
Though what mood did someone go for in this scenario?
And if I blew out the candles, then the room would be too dark. Lighting a bedside table would be way too much light, and while I was comfortable with my naked body, I didn’t want it to be seen under strong lighting by anyone other than E.
I studied the ceiling tiles. The house was too quiet. Even the air conditioner had shut up. This wouldn’t work. What if it was like this during the event? Should I put on music? My sleep machine? Would the sound of crickets and ocean waves be distracting?
I rolled right and reached for my phone, careful not to drop it into the water. Opening up my texts, I sent one to Easton.
Let’s cancel this. The house is too quiet. I can’t figure out the bedroom lighting. I can’t tell if I’m hungry or nauseous.
I saw the moment he read the text, then endured the long wait while he composed a response.
If you want to cancel, we will. No pressure. But both of us are horny as hell and no one will be listening or looking at anything but you.
Urgh. I set the phone on the floor next to the tub and sank into the water, fully submerging myself.
26
“How did we get into this shit?” Easton sat at the seat by the water, a corona bottle in hand. “You divorced, my wife waiting for us at home? We were supposed to be bachelor kings. Well,” he corrected with a smile. “I was gonna be a king. You had a very likely chance of being in my entourage.”
“Hey, we had one year of that. You almost fucked up my first job in that year. I think I missed more days than I showed up.”
“Oh, right. I almost fucked up your job. Your arm was twisted so far back it was dislocated.” Easton scowled. “Was it twisted when we went to Bimini?”
“No, but I think I felt a twinge in Cabo.” Aaron rolled his shoulder and faked a wince. “Yep. Right there.”
They laughed and then fell silent, watching a group of tourists pose for a photo at the surf. Easton’s phone beeped and he glanced down at it.
“She’s getting nervous.”
“Think she’ll back out?” Aaron tossed out the question as if he didn’t care, but the evidence was in the tense way he straddled the stool, the constant bounce of his knee, and the fact that he was on his third beer, the label half peeled off.
“Nah. She’ll come through. She’s just second-guessing everything.”
“Yeah. I get that. I’m nervous as fuck.”
Easton studied him. “You know we can just call this off. I can go back alone and take care of her solo.”
“No, I want it. It’s just—” he came off the stool and stood, pulling down on one pocket of his jeans and readjusting himself. “It’s just stressful. How in the hell are you so calm?”
Easton grinned. “She’s my wife, dude. There’s not another person on the planet I’m more comfortable with. And I trust you with her. If it was a stranger, someone I was worried was going to be rough with her, or an asshole—yeah, I’d be concerned. But you’ll be cool, assuming you can keep your dick hard.”
“Funny.” Aaron winced as he carefully maneuvered back on the stool. “That isn’t going to be a problem. I’ve been a steel rod for the last two days. I’m more concerned with coming the minute she touches me.”
“If she touches you.” Easton corrected. “She might just want you to watch.”
“I could listen through the walls and it’d still be the most interaction my dick’s gotten in four months.”
“Yeah, we need to get you out there. You had game at one point.”
Aaron winced. “I’m just going to lay low for a bit until the dust settles on this divorce. You don’t what a Jewish mother is like. I swear, she’s yelling at me right now, from West Flag. She doesn’t stop, EVER. And my next girl has to be Jewish. Otherwise my life is going to be a living hell. I told you what she did with my stuff right? How she had movers pull everything from my—Becca’s—house and put it in her garage? She hasn’t given up hope that I’ll move back into my old room.”
